So the day came. It is difficult fully to describe my condition. There
were, on the one hand, the zeal for 'reform', and the novelty of making
a momentous departure in life. There was, on the other, the shame of
hiding like a thief to do this very thing. I cannot say which of the two
swayed me more. We went in search of a lonely spot by the river, and
there I saw, for the first time in my life – meat. There was baker's
bread also. I relished neither. The goat's meat was as tough as leather.
I simply could not eat it. I was sick and had to leave off eating.
I had a very bad night afterwards. A horrible night-mare haunted me. Every time I
dropped off to sleep it would seem as though a live goat were bleating
inside me, and I would jump up full of remorse. But then I would remind
myself that meat-eating was a duty and so become more cheerful.
My friend was not a man to give in easily. He now began to cook various delicacies
with meat, and dress them neatly. And for dining, no longer was the
secluded spot on the river chosen, but a State house, with its dining
hall, and tables and chairs, about which my friend had made arrangements
in collusion with the chief cook there.
This bait had
its effect. I got over my dislike for bread, forswore my compassion for
the goats, and became a relisher of meat-dishes, if not of meat itself.
This went on for about a year. But not more than half a dozen
meat-feasts were enjoyed in all; because the State house was not
available every day, and there was the obvious difficulty about
frequently preparing expensive savoury meat-dishes. I had no money to
pay for this 'reform'. My friend had therefore always to find the
wherewithal. I had no knowledge where he found it. But find it he did,
because he was bent on turning me into a meat-eater. But even his means
must have been limited, and hence these feasts had necessarily to be few
and far between.
Whenever I had occasion to indulge in these surreptitious feasts, dinner at home
was out of the question. My mother would naturally ask me to come and
take my food and want to know the reason why I did not wish to eat. I
would say to her, 'I have no appetite today; there is something wrong
with my digestion.' It was not without compunction that I devised these
pretexts. I knew I was lying, and lying to my mother. I also knew that,
if my mother and father came to know of my having become a meat-eater,
they would be deeply shocked. This knowledge was gnawing at my heart.
Therefore I said to myself: 'Though it is essential to eat meat, and also essential
to take up food 'reform' in the country, yet deceiving and lying to
one's father and mother is worse than not eating meat. In their
lifetime, therefore, meat-eating must be out of the question. When they
are no more and I have found my freedom, I will eat meat openly, but
until that moment arrives I will abstain from it.'
This decision I communicated to my friend, and I have never since gone back to meat.
My parents never knew that two of their sons had become meat-eaters.
I abjured meat out of the purity of my desire not to lie to my parents, but I did
not abjure the company of my friend. My zeal for reforming him had
proved disastrous for me, and all the time I was completely unconscious
of the fact.
The same company would have led me into faithlessness to my wife. But I was saved
by the skin of my teeth. My friend once took me to a brothel. He sent me
in with the necessary instructions. It was all prearranged. The bill had
already been paid. I went into the jaws of sin, but God in His infinite
mercy protected me against myself. I was almost struck blind and dumb in
this den of vice. I sat near the woman on her bed, but I was
tongue-tied. She naturally lost patience with me, and showed me the
door, with abuses and insults. I then felt as though my manhood had been
injured, and wished to sink into the ground for shame. But I have ever
since given thanks to God for having saved me. I can recall four more
similar incidents in my life, and in most of them my good fortune,
rather than any effort on my part, saved me. From a strictly ethical
point of view, all these occasions must be regarded as moral lapses; for
the carnal desire was there, and it was as good as the act. But from the
ordinary point of view, a man who is saved from physically committing
sin is regarded as saved. And I was saved only in that sense. There are
some actions from which an escape is a godsend both for the man who
escapes and for those about him. Man, as soon as he gets back his
consciousness of right, is thankful to the Divine mercy for the escape.
As we know that a man often succumbs to temptation, however much he say
resist it, we also know that Providence often intercedes and saves him
in spite of himself. How all this happens – how far a man is free and
how far a creature of circumstances – how far free-will comes into play
and where fate enters on the scene – all this is a mystery and will
remain a mystery.
But to go on with the story. Even this was far from opening my eyes to the
viciousness of my friend's company. I therefore had many more bitter
draughts in store for me, until my eyes were actually opened by an
ocular demonstration of some of his lapses quite unexpected by me. But
of them later, as we are proceeding chronologically.
One thing, however, I must mention now, as it pertains to the same period. One of
the reasons of my differences with my wife was undoubtedly the company
of this friend. I was both a devoted and a jealous husband, and this
friend fanned the flame of my suspicions about my wife. I never could
doubt his veracity. And I have never forgiven myself the violence of
which I have been guilty in often having pained my wife by acting on his
information. Perhaps only a Hindu wife would tolerate these hardships,
and that is why I have regarded woman as an incarnation of tolerance. A
servant wrongly suspected may throw up his job, a son in the same case
may leave his father's roof, and a friend may put an end to the
friendship. A wife, if she suspects her husband, will keep quiet, but if
her husband suspects her, she is ruined. Where is she to go? A Hindu
wife may not seek divorce in a law-court. Law has no remedy for her.
And I can never forget or forgive myself for a having driven my wife to
that desperation.
The canker of suspicion was rooted out only when I understood Ahimsa1 in all its
bearings. I saw then the glory of Brahmacharya2 and realized
that the wife is not the husband's bondslave, but his companion and his
helpmate, and an equal partner in all his joys and sorrows – as free as
the husband to choose her own path. Whenever I think of those dark days
of doubts and suspicions, I am filled with loathing of my folly and my
lustful cruelty, and I deplore my blind devotion to a friend.